Learning
by lookingforme
Summary: Though Eowyn and Faramir have been married for a year now, they still have much to learn...Please read and review!


I awoke to the feeling of someone stroking my hair.

"Faramir? Are you awake?" Eowyn's voice was throaty with concern and sleep.

I groggily turned to face her. "What is it? Am I late? What time is it?"

She smiled, and gently caressed my face. I closed my eyes at her touch, and breathed in the fragrance of lemon-balm and lavender that seemed to follow her everywhere. She always laughed when I remarked on it, claiming it was due to the flowers and herbs the Warden insisted on strewing about the Houses of Healing to keep the smells of the ward at bay. But it was part of her now.

"It is not yet dawn," she whispered, moving closer to me. "But you screamed in your sleep."

"It was just a dream," I said shortly, putting my arms around her.

"The tonic did not help?"

"I do not think that tonic can cure this," I told her gently. I attempted to plant a kiss on her forehead, but she held my gaze.

"But it should help you sleep better. Perhaps you—"

"Eowyn, my love, I slept quite well. And if you truly want to cure me of my nightmares, a kiss might do the trick."

But I had not learned yet. I knew of her stubbornness—anyone could read it in the set of her proud chin. But I had not expected her to snap, "You do not trust me enough to confide in me! You will court me still as if we are young sweethearts, and yet you refuse to tell me what it is that haunts you so!"

"I saw my father's hands wither before my very eyes! I saw his skin melt like wax in the heat and the flame! Is that what you wanted to hear?" I asked roughly, withdrawing my arms from around her.

I turned, and closed my eyes. Our marriage thus far had been happy—I could not remember a greater delight than waking up to Eowyn, riding with her through the woods of Ithilien. But we both had scars that had not fully healed.

"Faramir?" I hated the sound of uncertainty in her voice—she had done nothing wrong, and yet her normally determined demeanor broke, appealing for forgiveness. "Faramir, I know—I lost many in this war, and it pains me to know the bloodshed is not yet over. I see soldiers coming in every day to the Houses, their wounds fresh, and I wish—I hope that it ends soon."

I sighed, and turned around again. "I hope it ends soon too," I said looking into her eyes. "And I am sorry—but I cannot think of burdening you with grief any further."

Now she kissed me; I could taste the sour, warm morning on her breath. "Are we not directed to share our burdens?" She asked me gently. "I do not need to be protected, Faramir—what I need is your trust."

"And you have it fully," I assured her. "But it does not seem fair—"

"—that you should think you must suffer alone," she finished firmly. "Or that peace should take so much labor. When will it end?"

I fell silent at her question. The war was over, and the reconstruction of Minas Tirith had begun, but Orcs and other foul creatures still sullied the lands about Gondor and Rohan. I had been given the prince-ship over Ithilien, but before the garden could grow beautiful again, there was the question of the goblins and Orcs that lingered still. I was on a brief reprieve from the scourings that the King had ordered—night after night of tracking, killing, burning. It seemed unjust that men were still losing their lives, that more bloodshed had to take place—but Eowyn was right. Peace was not a child's whim that would be gratified with a smile and a wave of the hand. But in truth, I wearied of warfare—it had always been my brother's province, not mine. I longed to begin the rebuilding of the Garden of Gondor, yearned to spend more than one night here or there with my wife. Although she too was kept occupied—we would often wake before dawn, me to ready my men, and she to travel into Minas Tirith to do her work for the week at the Houses of Healing. Our house on the borders of Ithilien would often stand empty—I had been loath to leave Minas Tirith, but Eowyn had insisted, claiming she could only stand the stone city for so long.

"My love? Did you fall asleep again?" Eowyn's voice startled me out of my reverie.

"I was only thinking about how I would miss you, Eowyn," I said, playing with her hair.

She laughed—she was not one for inane sweet-talk. "It will only be for two days," she retorted. "You have been absent from me for much longer than that. And at least you will be safe in Minas Tirith, and I will not have to worry about you." The King had called a council to rally the efforts against the agents of Mordor, and had asked me to come.

"You always worry about me."

"Well, after constantly fretting about an impulsive brother, I have quite perfected the skill. Speaking of Eomer, do take care that he does not insult anyone—his diplomacy is sadly lacking, and he tires when he is not allowed to carry a sword."

I smiled at her description of her brother. "I will do so. Although I think he will behave himself admirably—he does not want to be sent back to Rohan without seeing you, I wager."

Eowyn turned her head a little to look past me and out the window. She gently slapped my chest. "You are not late yet, but you soon will be if you lie sloth any longer, Captain."

I gave her a long kiss before rising. She slowly sat up as I began to dress, shivering slightly in the freshness of late October. "We will soon have to light fires in the chambers," I said over my shoulder. "Are you going to the Houses today?"

I turned in time to see her start to sag. Uttering an involuntary shout, I ran to her and gently helped her back under the covers. In the light of dawn, I could see her face—it seemed to have a strange mask of a shadow imprinted around the bridge of her nose and under her eyes. "Did you sleep at all?" I asked her, pressing a hand to her forehead.

She removed my hand and held it for a minute, looking strangely happy, her eyes glinting. "Yes, I did sleep," she murmured. "And I am not going to the Houses today—I have been given a leave of absence, and I do not plan on returning until after—"

"Oh good God, you're ill," I whispered, my insides growing ice-cold. "Are you not well? Eowyn—"

"I'm well!" she exclaimed, laughing. "I just—" She breathed deeply, opened her mouth to say something, and closed it again.

"Eowyn," I said, my anger rising. "Do not trifle with me, especially after lecturing me on sharing my burdens!"

"I am not trifling with you, dearest," she said. "Believe that I am well, and that—there is no burden—Faramir, I have a surprise, but I cannot tell you now, not like this," she said, her voice suddenly firm.

"I—"

"You said you trusted me. So trust me, and go now before you are made late!"

Her chin rose again, daring me to defy her. I sighed. "I do trust you. I will return in two days, and please do take care?" She nodded.

I kissed her once more, my hand caressing her face, her arms around my neck. "I love you," she said. "Now go!"

***

"You do live a long way from Minas Tirith, Faramir," Eomer commented.

"I am to protect these lands," I reminded him. "They were left to my keeping—and in truth, I would not live anywhere else."

"You mean Eowyn would not live anywhere else," he said, shifting in his saddle. "I began to long for the sight of green grass and open fields while we were fettered and chained to the stone of the city."

"Fettered and chained seems very strong language indeed," I said, careful not to look into Eomer's eyes, "especially when you seemed to enjoy the food and merriment so—and the company of Prince Imrahil's daughter, if my perceptions serve me well."

I feared I had gone too far when he met my gaze, his eyes burning, but he soon burst into laughter. "Your perceptions serve you very well," he chortled. "Eowyn must have a terrible time with you."

"And why would you say that?" I asked, highly offended.

"She was always a terrible liar, and always so desperate to keep her secrets," Eomer replied, still laughing.

And yet, I thought, there was her surprise. I felt unease stir in my chest. It was true that we kept very little from each other—the more I thought about her behavior that morning, the more unease pressed against me.

"You are very quiet now," said Eomer presently. "What ails you?"

I hesitated—perhaps Eomer could help me understand Eowyn's secret. But she had not entrusted me to speak of it to anyone—and for all his good heart, I felt that he would not know. After all, he had been almost blind to her suffering, I thought, before I could check the uncharitable thought.

"I am quite well," I replied. To divert him, I said, "Did you think the council went well?"

Eomer grimaced. "I know it must be done, but I am loath to spend more men and time chasing the servants of Barad-dur. Aragorn is right in saying that we cannot rest until the evil of Barad-dur is utterly extinguished—but as king, how do I explain more bloodshed and more deaths to my people?"

"How will you explain it to them if you do not take action now, and evil finds a new leader and comes after the people of Rohan with a vengeance?" I said softly.

We rode in silence afterwards, the clanking of the men's gear being the only sound until we reached the house. Stable boys came to take our horses, and I suddenly felt a whirlwind fly into my arms.

"Oh, you have come—at last!" Eowyn exclaimed, kissing me. I was slightly surprised—she was always happy to see me, but was careful not to indulge in overt displays of affection when we were near others. Nevertheless, I smiled at her, and kissed her back.

"You look exhausted," I said to her. The shadows around her eyes were ever darker, but her eyes glowed, and even her yellow hair seemed alight. "You are taking care of yourself?"

"Yes, yes, love—Eomer! What do you think?" She released me, and kissed her brother.

"Eowyn—you look tired! Are you—"

"Oh please! I have never felt better! Now, what do you think of my—our—house?" She released him, and beckoned everyone towards the door.

"If I know you, the beds are half made, and the fires are mere embers by now!" Eomer said laughingly, receiving a slap on the shoulder for his jest.

She ran ahead of us, and I became still as I looked into her face. She seemed to radiate joy from every pore.

Eomer stopped me as I went to enter, his brow furrowed in worry. "Faramir—"

"I know, she seems—"

"No, Faramir, you do not understand." He led me further away from the house. "I am worried about her."

"I know," I repeated, puzzled by the wide-eyed look of anxiety on Eomer's face. "I don't know what—"

"You don't understand," Eomer said raggedly. "It's—it's been a very long time since I've seen Eowyn like that. A very long time. Faramir—I know I never took care of her like I should have. I know that—"

I smiled a little, despite the anxiety growing at the pit of my stomach. "Eowyn hardly needs someone to take care of her," I said.

"The point is—the only time I have ever seen her this happy is before battle," Eomer blurted out. "The only time her eyes would be as bright as they are now would be when she heard the stories of the warriors of old. Faramir, she wants—"

"No." It felt as if someone had poured ice over me. "No. No, she said—she told me that—she said it herself—"

"She wants to ride out again! She has only been waiting for this—she is going to tell you that she wants to wield a sword again—"

"You have nothing to support this," I growled harshly, digging my fingers into Eomer's shoulder. "You do not know this—you cannot possibly know—"

I unconsciously pulled off my gloves, and ran my fingers through my hair.

"Promise you will not let her go," Eomer pleaded. "Tell her whatever you have to, but do not let her go."

"I can hardly keep her hostage," I murmured, pulling at my hair again.

Eomer grabbed my arm. "I want her to be happy as much as you do," he whispered, as a stable boy passed by with a horse. "But I cannot—I will not go through that grief again, Faramir. It is selfish, I know, but when I saw her body on the Pelennor Fields—"

"If you take one minute longer, Faramir, I will start the meal without you, and I will ensure that you are fed nothing tonight!" Eowyn's voice rang out in mock severity.

"I will say nothing of it to her unless she speaks of it to me," I murmured to Eomer. "But you have my word."

"What were you two speaking of so secretly?" Eowyn demanded as we entered the house.

I looked at her again. She looked truly beautiful—her blue gown, reserved for festive occasions, brought out her grey eyes, and her hair glimmered in the light of the fire. Was it my mind's eye that saw the faint wildness of bloodlust in her eyes? "Nothing at all, love," I said, taking her hand and entering the hall with her.

There was a festive air during dinner—men that had not seen each other since the Battle of the Pelennor Fields greeted each other with joy, though the memories that must have stirred in their hearts were far from happy. The dinner itself was wonderful—the lofty chamber was filled with the smells of roasted boar and sweet stew. But I could not stop looking at Eowyn—how could it be? It had been her own decision to give up her sword, to become a Healer. I had thought I would be able to reconcile myself to whatever decision she would make—but, like Eomer, I found the thought of her lying broken and cold on the battlefield unbearable.

But how did I truly know that was what she wanted to tell me? I didn't—but Eomer's words were implanted in my mind.

_I have only seen her this happy before battle._

I felt a sudden, surprising wave of resentment envelop me. Was she truly happier going to battle, killing and maiming, than she was at my side? Had she not been this happy on our wedding day? During our days together? For my part, I could not think of a more joyous time—how could she?

I heard her voice over the rumbling of voices before I realized that she was standing, goblet in hand. "Men of Rohan and Gondor," she said grandly. "It is my honor to welcome you to our humble home. I drink to your health!"

Great cheers erupted. "But," she continued, holding up a hand to staunch the noise, "tonight is doubly joyous, for not only are we gathered here, in peace, but—I have an announcement to make," she said hurriedly, blushing slightly.

The fire suddenly seemed painfully hot. She would not—she could not—

"My lady." I did not realize that I had risen, until I had to steady myself with a hand on the table. "My lady, we are indeed very happy to be here tonight. But the men are weary. Let them drink and eat and be off to rest for the scouting tomorrow. The men thank you for your hospitality."

Murmurs recommenced as we drank to Eowyn's health, and I sat down, my leg awkwardly hitting the chair. I couldn't look at her—her eyes had immediately filled at shame and anger at being reproached in front of so many, and the look she gave me made me want to ask her forgiveness in front of everyone, if I hadn't known that it would pain her even more.

At long last, the men finished eating, and I showed them to their quarters. Eomer found me.

"That was difficult, I know," he said simply. "But remember your promise—your oath, Faramir."

I nodded my head curtly, and bid him good night.

I went to my chamber and dressed for sleep. Eowyn was there, still dressed, brushing her hair before bed. For several minutes neither of us spoke, as she ripped the brush through her thick mane.

"I am not angry, Faramir," she said suddenly, putting down the brush, and picking hairs off her dress. "I was angry, but I am not now. In fact, I should apologize to you—you should by all means be the first one to know, after all!" She smiled, and came towards me. "Come to bed first."

I silently sat on the bed. Eomer had been right—she was going to tell me that she wanted to ride in battle once more, and I was going to have to deny her wish. I was going to have to cage her once more, and any love that she felt for me would die, and all that would remain would be bitterness.

"Eowyn, I—"

"No, Faramir!" she said, her eyes growing in defiance. "I shall say it—I've waited long enough for your campaigns and negotiations to end, and no more. I shall say it. Faramir, I—"

"I know what you are going to say," I declared, rising. I suddenly felt furious. "How? How can you do this, Eowyn? How could you think this would not—"

I stopped, choking from the effort. "What are you saying, Faramir?" Her voice cracked with the moisture of tears, and I closed my eyes before continuing.

"How could you think this would not hurt me? I lost my brother and my father in war—how can you do this to me?"

"Do this to you?" she echoed, her voice a mere whisper. "Do this to you? How dare you say that! This is not your decision to make!"

"Neither is it yours!" I thundered. "It is not your decision to make alone, and you should have spoken to me about it before announcing it before my men!"

"You mean, attempting to announce it!" she raged. "How could you stop me like that? I am not a wayward girl, Faramir—"

"Your actions would suggest otherwise! Were you even think—"

She stood in front of me now, and looked into my eyes. "Everything I do, I always think of you first."

"If you had thought of me, you would have realized that—that I cannot do this! I am not ready for this Eowyn," I said, wiping her tears away. "Please—perhaps a year from now, but I cannot—"

She wrenched herself away from my hand, and marched over to the doorway. "I am terribly sorry to have disappointed you, my lord," she said stiffly, before slamming the door.

I opened it, and attempted to go after her. "Eowyn, be—"

"You will have to sleep alone tonight. And please do not follow me."

I had never heard her speak like that before—her voice was very quiet and low. I pinched the bridge of my nose—I could not leave her like this. She could not leave me like this. "Eowyn—"

"Go."

I went back to the room. Sleep did not come easily to me that night.

***

There was a strange noise coming from the corner. I opened my eyes, my vision bleary and foggy, and looked out the window. It could not be dawn yet.

I blinked hard, and tried to discern the crouched shape in the corner. I rushed over as I realized it was Eowyn, retching into the chamber pot.

"I forgot to put one in the apothecary," she choked out as I rubbed her back. "I thought I could sleep on the couch there." She pointed to the room adjacent to ours, where she stored all her herbs and poultices.

She sighed, and wiped her mouth, her eyes red and watery. "Come and lie down," I said gently, taking her arm.

She pulled away from me, and attempted to stand.

"Eowyn, I am sorry," I said, moving her hair from her face. "I am truly sorry. But my love, I cannot—I cannot lose you. I will not."

"Coward," she said scathingly. "Is that what you are truly afraid of?"

"I could not bear the thought of you—coming to harm," I said slowly, the image of her broken body on a forsaken battlefield rising through the fog of my mind. "Eowyn—I never want to keep you hostage. I never want to hinder you in anything you wish to pursue—perhaps I am being selfish—"

"Perhaps? The thought of your failure is all that fills your mind! You do not care about me—I am a Healer after all! Why should my death frighten you? No, it is the thought that you might repeat the mistakes of your forefathers—holding the dead dearer to you than the living. Is that—"

"How dare you!" I rose to my feet. "Is that what you truly think of me? A self-centered—I have only ever wanted what was best for you!"

"And this is what is best for me?" Her voice was again choked with tears. "You think that telling me that you are not ready for our child—asking me how I could place this burden upon you—is what is best for me?"

Silence.

I sat down next to her again. "Eowyn, look at me." She turned her face towards me reluctantly. "Eowyn—are we to have a child?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes, of course we—" she began heatedly. then stopped.

"Are you with child?" I asked stupidly, rubbing my eyes.

"You said you knew!" she said, her voice quiet with surprise. "I thought perhaps my fatigue had—you said you knew, and I—"

I clasped her to me, and kissed her on the lips, despite her protests. "I thought that you wanted to take up the sword again," I said breathlessly. "Your brother said he had never seen you this happy except during talk of battle, and I—you don't know—"

Eowyn laughed suddenly, and wrapped her arms around me in return. "You listened to Eomer? You, who is known for wisdom beyond his age?"

"Well, I didn't—"

She put a finger to my lips. "Faramir," she said gravely, "when I gave up the sword, it was not only for you. I had fulfilled my dream, and found something still wanting. I had always craved for valor and renown, but I realized too late that valor gained by warfare was not my path. Now, I have a purpose—and I am content."

"Or you were content before I hurt you!" I gathered her up in my arms, and carried her to bed, stopping suddenly before putting her down. "I can still hold you, can't I?"

She laughed again. "It has only been five months!" she exclaimed. "Yes, you may—and you may also lie down next to me. Please?"

I did so, and cradled her in my arms. "Please forgive me," I whispered. "I cannot imagine—what you must have thought!"

"I could not sleep last night—I could not fathom what had come over you!" She caressed my cheek. "But Faramir, you do not have to worry about me—I am fulfilled with you, my love."

"And I with you," I said, kissing her again. I knew I was grinning like an idiot, but I could not have cared less. "And I am happy about this child. Frightened, but happy."

"More frightened than after what you assumed last night, after taking the estimable advice of my brother?" Eowyn's mouth twitched with a suppressed smile.

"Yes," I admitted, laughing. "And I was a fool to listen to him. And I was a fool not to trust you."

"Well, I trust you," she said gently. "And though I wish you had more faith in me—"

"Let us promise each other," I said, taking her hands in mine, "to never assume that we know each other's thoughts."

"Agreed. And let us never again take advice—" She broke into peals of laughter as I groaned.

I lay silent for a moment, drinking in her lovely eyes, her sweet mouth. "Is it a girl?" I asked hopefully.

"The Healers say that they will pray for a boy," she said, "but I feel that it's a girl."

"She will be just like her mother," I whispered, kissing her forehead. She sighed, and rested her head on my chest.

"I need to sleep," she said, yawning. "I always wake in the early morning, feeling sick—though I think I might have a tonic for it…"

"Sleep," I whispered, moving her hair away from her face. "I will stay with you—although I would like to see Eomer's face sooner rather than later when we give him the news!"

I felt her giggle.

I put my arms around her, and waited for sleep. I knew it would come easily now. I loved and was loved. And by next year, I would have another wonderful being in my life to cherish.

"Eowyn," I called her name through a yawn. "Are you happy?"

"I am happy," she murmured, half-asleep. "Are you?"

"No." I answered, kissing her cheek. "Happiness does not compare to this bliss."


End file.
